


Crucifixion

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s02e02 In the Shadow of Two Gunmen Part II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-01
Updated: 2003-05-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 06:25:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15113657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: "But they all grow brighter from the brilliance of the blaze/With the speed of insanity, then he dies"





	Crucifixion

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Crucifixion**  
**by:** Kasey

**Character(s):** Sam  
**Category(s):** EP-RELATED: WKoDHiB, ITSo2G1 &2  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** don't own 'em, etc.  
**Summary:** "But they all grow brighter from the brilliance of the blaze/With the speed of insanity, then he dies"  
**Disclaimer(s):** The characters are Aaron's, the title, summary, and lyrics are from "Crucifixion" by Phil Ochs, which was originally about the death of JFK.  
 **Author's Note:** It deals entirely with Rosslyn, but minor spoilers perhaps for first season and maybe things we find out in Midterms.  
 **Props:** To Janie, for telling me about the kick-ass song that inspired this fic. 

With a, for the most part, lack of concerns, they exit and walk down the Freedom Park sidewalk, smiling and joking with each other, glad for the good news about Toby's brother as well as for the great reception to the speech. It's a beautiful night - warm, with a light breeze to keep it from being stuffy, a clear sky full of bright stars and not a cloud in sight. 

The President, drawn to the people as a fly to food, makes a beeline for the rope line, much to the dismay of those around him Zoey shakes her head and rolls her eyes as if to say "Da-ad..." as she walks toward the car, arm-in-arm with Charlie, grinning because apparently there's been an apology so now they're fine again. 

Then the sky explodes. 

> //And the night comes again to the circle studded sky  
> The stars settle slowly, in lonliness they lie  
> 'Til the universe explodes as a falling star is raised.  
> Planets are paralyzed, mountains are amazed  
> But they all glow brighter from the brilliance of the blaze  
> With the speed of insanity, then he dies.//

They wanted power, they wanted their message to get out, to be spread throughout the world because it was the only true word. After all, only racially pure children must be brought into the world; Anything else will further mutate our society into a heathenous band. 

They say nothing to their loved-ones - damn progressives. They love their families and all, but too many of them are too liberal and would try to talk them out of such rational actions. 

They would always be loyal to their brothers - even if it meant being made martyrs. After all, if you couldn't trust those who thought like you and were willing to defend the same principles you were willing to defend, then who could you trust? 

Their work would be difficult, they had known that from the beginning. After all, the Secret Service wasn't entirely stupid. But it was worth it - it was what they needed to do. For the good of the country. 

> //In the green fields a turnin', a baby is born  
> His cries crease the wind and mingle with the morn  
> An assault upon the order, the changing of the guard  
> Chosen for a challenge that is hopelessly hard  
> And the only single sound is the sighting of the stars  
> But to the silence and the distance they are sworn.
> 
> //So dance, dance, dance  
>  Teach us to be true  
>  Come dance, dance, dance  
>  'Cause we love you//

The three who drove to Virginia are already heroes to their fellow members back home, who watch at headquarters on three televisions as the stations break in with news coverage. They know they have lost two of their brothers, and the third will mostly likely end up in custody, but they will be exalted, remembered and thought of with the highest respect, for their eagerness to change the world, and because they were martyrs. 

> //Images of innocence charge him to go on  
> But the decadence of destiny is looking for a pawn//

The man who was hanging back from the President's entourage, simply smiling as his friends picked at each other, dives to see what's going on, peering through the gate as though through prison bars, like a caged animal as something sharp hits him and takes his breath away. 

Sliding down the cold cement wall, he tries to call to someone, but there's so much noise, so much confusion, he can barely breathe let alone shout and he's so tired...He wonders how he suddenly got into Senator Hoynes' office - he had been somewhere else, but where...? He can't remember now- 

He's vaguely aware of motion, but mostly he's floating. 

He has to get Sam, they have to go to New Hampshire and work for the Real Thing, he tries to call out to his friend when he hears the familiar voice but he's beyond tired now, he wants to curl into a ball and sleep forever except it hurts too much to do that... 

...And through the foggy haze, his father smiles at him. 

> //To a nightmare of knowledge, he opens up the gate  
> And a blinding revelation is laid upon his plate  
> That beneath the greatest love is a hurricane of hate  
> And God help the critic of the dawn.
> 
> //So he stands on the sea and shouts to the shore  
>  But the louder that he screams, the longer he's ignored  
>  For the wine of oblivion is drunk to the dregs  
>  And the merchants of the masses almost have to be begged  
>  'Til the giant is aware, someone's pulling at his leg,  
>  And someone is tapping at the door.//

The lone wolf retreats, knowing fully well that his companions are dead on their perch, quick to make his exit so they don't catch him as well. Once in his car, he pulls out his phone and has a very coded phone call with the headquarters - groups are mobilizing in support of his actions even as they speak. The two who died, though of an unknown identity to most, are being heralded as heroic, for even though they missed their original target, they're helping rid the world of one more filthy, shifty Jew who's drunk on his power, plus a more well-known public face than their original target. 

> //Then his message gathers meaning and it spreads across the land  
> The rewarding of his pain is the following of the man  
> But ignorance is everywhere and people have their way  
> Success is an enemy to the losers of the day  
> In the shadows of the churches, who knows what they pray  
> For blood is the language of the band.//

A sort of hush descends over the crowd, too immobilized by terror to go anywhere, too thankful for their lives after their brush with death that they cling to their loved ones. 

Meanwhile, a shameless media catches the whole scene on video tapes to be shown as soon as possible on national newscasts. As soon as they know who did this, that person's picture will be splayed across televisions in several billion households world-wide, a perfect advertisement for his message, to show others who think like him that you can accomplish things with a gun...only it also shows not to use the gun he used, because it was the wrong type of weapon. Next time, the underlying message will be, the shooter should use a better gun - maybe a .357 Magnum, a .22 calliber, something other than what was used. 

> //The Spanish bulls are beaten; the crowd is soon beguiled,  
> The matador is beautiful, a symphony of style  
> Excitement is ecstatic, passion places bets  
> Gracefully he bows to the ovations that he gets  
> But the hands that are applauding are slippery with sweat  
> And saliva is falling from their smiles.
> 
> //So dance, dance, dance  
>  Teach us to be true  
>  Come dance, dance, dance  
>  'Cause we love you//

The hospital waiting room is too silent, everyone afraid to say anything, waiting for news that either their friend will be fine or that their friend is gone. So they escape frequently to the White House, where they can work, keep busy, pass a little bit of time. 

Mostly they want the trip time between their destinations; It's nice, a little peaceful, bust mostly solitary. They don't have to worry about appearances or about staying strong for one another, they can break down for those few moments, staring up at the starry sky and asking how God could be so cruel as to kill their friend or their President. 

But it makes things real. Staring up at the skies and thinking and wondering and asking and praying makes it all an actuality; It wasn't a nightmare, they really are about to go sit in the waiting room to see if their friend makes it through surgery. 

And though no one says it, they all wonder why Josh, and why not themselves - why aren't they dead? 

> //Then this overflow of life is crushed into a liar  
> The gentle soul is ripped apart and tossed into the fire  
> First a smile of rejection at the nearness of the night  
> Truth becomes a tragedy limping from the light  
> All the heavens are horrified, they stagger from the sight  
> As the cross is trembling with desire//

Information is currency; Whoever has the most, wins. 

Whoever first hypothesized that humans are beings of curiosity - which should be evident in the fact that someone wondered about such a thing - was most certainly correct in that analysis; Why else would 270 million Americans and an additional 2 billion fellow citizens of the world be glued to their television sets, waiting in earnest for any new information about what happened? They needed to know more about what happened, why it happened, who made it happen, and how it would be kept from happening again. Once they knew that, they decided, then they would be okay. But in the meantime, they were terrified - there had been an act of domestic terrorism. What would come next? They needed information to ease their fears. 

So they sat, their eyes never leaving their televisions that broadcast CNN and network news updates, trying to understand why, as if there was a simple or logical answer. 

> //They say they can't believe it, it's a sacreligious shame  
> Now, who would want to hurt such a hero of the game?  
> But you know I predicted it; I knew he had to fall  
> How did it happen? I hope his suffering was small  
> Tell me every detail, I've got to know it all,  
> And do you have a picture of the pain?
> 
> //So dance, dance, dance  
>  Teach us to be true  
>  Come dance, dance, dance  
>  'Cause we love you//

She herself cannot remember what happened. Everyone keeps asking, and the more people ask the less she remembers, which offers her a little more relief than the others have. After all, not being able to remember the shooting means it doesn't run through her head every time she closes her eyes for even a second. 

She asks Leo what to tell the people who ask questions she doesn't know how to answer, or that she can't answer for security reasons, or that she doesn't want to have to answer. He's too busy yelling at Margaret and trying not to be exasperated with the incompetent Vice President's lack of ability to call a play, and trying to keep the faith that Josh WILL be okay. 

Josh has to be okay. After all, he promised Noah he would take care of Josh. He promised...Josh can't die on his watch. 

They try to wait without worrying, try to worry without pacing, and try to pace without being noticeable. What else is there to do at that point? 

> //Time takes her toll and the memory fades  
> But his glory is broken, in the magic that he made  
> Reality is ruined; it's the freeing from the fear  
> The drama is distorted, to what they want to hear  
> Swimming in their sorrow, in the twisting of a tear  
> As they wait for a new thrill parade//

Toby blames himself, then realizes he shouldn't do that, so he needs someone else to blame, which is easy enough to find once they know who the gunmen were affiliated with. Then the key becomes doing something proactive without making it seem like that's what he's doing; After all, he's usually the one trumpeting the first amendment - anti-McCarthyism, anti-censorship, pro-NEA, pro-free press, pro-protesting rights - and it will look wrong to suddenly flip-flop, even though he feels he should. 

Next door, his deputy stares at his Newton's cradle, watching the steady back-and-forth motion, hearing the periodic clicks, reveling in its constance. Too much right now is up in the air - his best friend could be dead by nightfall, people could try again to finish the job and kill Charlie, or miss and hurt someone else. He's not as worried about himself dying as he is about those around him. It's like something Josh says, about how those around him fall and yet he remains standing... 

...Why aren't you standing now, Josh? Sam wants to ask, scared and angry at the world but knowing internally he must be the calm one, to counteract Toby's ranting and Leo's yelling and CJ's frustration with the press. He has to be a source of constance as well, because such a thing is comforting in times of peril. 

> //The eyes of the rebel have been branded by the blind  
> To the safety of sterility, the threat has been refinied  
> The child was created to the slaughterhouse he's led  
> So good to be alive when the eulogy is read  
> The climax of emotion, the worship of the dead  
> And the cycle of sacrifice unwinds.
> 
> //So dance, dance, dance  
>  Teach us to be true  
>  Come dance, dance, dance  
>  'Cause we love you//

Time ticks slowly by, the longest day since the beginning of the world as they all check their watches to see if it's been fourteen hours yet, if they might hear from the doctors soon, if they have any way of knowing what's going on or what their friend's chances are right now, this second. It makes them all insane to have to wait so long, but they try to think positively, a difficult feat, and assume that no news is good news; It must mean things are going well. 

And surely enough, as night falls once more, the only two who lie dead are the instigators, whose own hatred is to blame for their demise, who could see the world only in terms of black and white. 

> //And the night comes again to the circle studded sky  
> The stares settle slowly, in loneliness they lie  
> 'Til the universe explodes as a falling star is raised  
> Planets are paralyzed, mountains are amazed  
> But they all glow brighter from the brilliance of the blaze  
> With the speed of insanity, then he died.//

~*~FIN~*~ 


End file.
